When I was a boy we raised goats for meat. My pa showed me how to hold ‘em down while he shot ‘em in the head. They were food. Made sense. We were movin’ to the city and had a half wild cat. My pa found her sleepin’ and took her out with a shotgun. Didn’t want kittens sufferin’ out there. Made sense. Our dog got old. My ma dug a hole and set her in it with her favorite ball then put a bullet between her ears. We took care of family ourselves. Made sense.
Not cold-blooded. Practical.